


turned to dust all that I adore

by 100demons



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1370188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/pseuds/100demons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaijou without Kasamatsu.</p><p>Kise’s not sure if he likes the sound of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	turned to dust all that I adore

Kise’s just finished pulling on his sweats when Kasamatsu slaps him on the shoulder, hitting the spot Hayakawa slammed into during practice. Kise makes a face, putting on an extra large pout. 

“Senpai, why do you have to be so rough with me?”

Kasamatsu barely even notices, busy making angry faces at one of the first year water-boys, who were horsing around instead of properly wiping down the equipment. One sharp glare instantly breaks up the play-fighting and turns the boys into obedient servants. 

Kise frowns. “Senpai?”

Kasamatsu finishes scowling and leans down, close enough that Kise can see the individual trickles of water running down his Captain’s throat and settling into the hollow of his collarbone. “Keep your schedule open tonight.”

“What do you--” 

But Kasamatsu’s already moved on by that point, wading through the mass of freshly showered bodies to meet with Coach, who’s hovering by the door to his office. The back of his blue shirt is dark from the water trickling down the back of his neck, highlighting the sharp gap between his shoulderblades.

“Earth to Kise,” Moriyama says, jabbing Kise in the side with a sharp elbow and slamming his locker door shut with his other hand. “You still with us?”

“Where else would I be?” Kise picks up his pile of sweaty practice clothes and shoves it haphazardly into his gym bag, bits of jerseys and laces sticking out from the gaping mouth. 

“You seem a little tense,” Moriyama smiles slyly and he plops himself onto the bench, entirely too close for Kise’s comfort, bag clutched against his chest like a weird version of a baby sling. 

“Sore, not tense,” Kise corrects and makes a show of rubbing his bruised shoulder. “Hayakawa could stand to lose a pound. Or ten.” 

“Don’t blame him for your delicate constitution,” Moriyama says, tossing his hair back in a move that Kise’s ninety percent sure that Moriyama copied from him. 

“Fuck you,” Kise says reflexively and slings his bag over his shoulder, instinctively checking his appearance in the locker room mirror on the far wall. Artfully disheveled with a touch of athletic enthusiasm. The fans waiting outside would approve.

Moriyama taps him on the shoulder (the good one, Kise notes, and he forgives Moriyama a little) and leans in, just like Kasamatsu did. “You should listen to the Captain on this.” 

Kise jerks his head. “You heard?”

“It’s the Captain’s party tonight.”

“You can’t mean _senpai’s_ gonna throw a party?” Kise risks a quick glance over by the doorjamb, Kasamatsu casually leaning against it with his arms folded across his chest and his serious game face on. Coach is tapping his fingers on his clipboard, explaining something, probably a different kind of drill he wants to implement. Their expressions wouldn’t look out of place at a funeral.

“It’s tradition,” Moriyama insists, scooting forward even closer. “Every year, the Captain throws a party right before he leaves and announces who the next Captain’s gonna be. Then it’s the team’s job to get the new guy as drunk as possible.” 

Something in Kise’s chest tightens. “Already? I thought we had a few more weeks before. Before all this.”

Moriyama shrugs. “Exams are coming up and I know Yukio doesn’t want all of us third years becoming ronin just for a few more weeks of ball. It’s like a last farewell kind of thing, you know.”

“I’ll think about coming,” Kise says, keeping his voice as steady as he can and flashing a quick and easy grin. “I’ll just have to talk to my manager and see what I can do about my schedule.”

“And make sure you bring some cute models too! Last year the only girl there was Kobori’s younger sister and she looks _just_ like him, only hairier.” Moriyama shudders. 

“Yeah, of course,” he says absently. “Tonight at Kasamatsu-senpai’s place?” Kise asks while clambering off the locker bench, nearly hitting a water boy with his swinging gym bag. 

“Remember, you promised! Girls, girls, girls!”

Kise gives him a wave as he makes his way over to the exit, neatly sidestepping a row of second string members busy collecting pinnies. As he crosses the room, he manages to catch Kasamatsu-senpai’s eye, grinning outrageously as Kasamatus’s eyebrows grow more and more annoyed. He mouths an especially obnoxious _bye Kasamacchi-senpai_ before ducking out the door, just missing a school-slipper to the head.

Kaijou without Kasamatsu.

Kise’s not sure if he likes the sound of it.

\---

Tonight turns out to be a case of beer and a bottle of sake teetering precariously on top of Hayakawa’s head, as he makes the rounds pouring for the upperclassmen. It’s not the first party Kise’s ever been to, but one of the few where the center of the attention isn’t on his face, but on the ring of third year seniors, huddled into a tight circle around Kasamatsu’s living room table, determinedly chugging down shot after shot and drunkenly making toasts about basketball. After tonight, they’ll be hanging up their jerseys and picking up pencils in preparation for the college entrance exam.

“It’ll get better in a bit,” Nakamura comments softly, his voice barely audible over the blast of rock music pulsating from the stereo system. “The seniors are almost done warming up.”

“I’ve been to worse,” Kise says casually, leaning back on the edge of the dining room table. 

“Of course,” Nakamura flushes a little, though it’s hard to tell whether it’s from embarrassment or the Yebisu Premium in his hand. “You must have been to a lot of these things before because of your work. Yukio-senpai’s very strict about our dry policy during season, which is why you haven’t seen too many parties at Kaijou this year.”

Kise’s grip tightens on his can of Sapporo. _Yukio-senpai_ , like he has any right to call Kasamatsu by his first name. “How was last year’s Captain’s party?”

Nakamura sips at his beer, grinning. “Yukio-senpai got so bad we had to carry him over to the bathroom and aim his head into the toilet. I think we still have pictures of Captain Jinta holding him in his arms like a baby.”

“Captain Jinta?”

“Jinta was our center last year,” Nakamura mumbles around the mouthful of Yebisu he knocks back. “It’s usually the old Captain’s job to keep an eye on the new guy, make sure he doesn’t die from alcohol poisoning before taking up the position.”

“About those pictures--” But before Kise can get the question out, Kasamatsu-senpai strides out of the bathroom, flanked by an honor guard of Moriyama and Kobori banging on empty plastic sake bottles with wooden spoons. His dark head is crowned with a strange wire circlet, a giant and glittery plastic four glued onto the center. It is the single most ridiculous thing Kise has ever seen in his life, but Kasamatsu wears it with a regal pride that makes something in his chest tighten. 

“All rise, esteemed members of Kaijou Basketball,” Kobori booms, banging rythmically against the bottle. “And give your respects to Captain Kasamatsu Yukio, eighteenth to hold the title and defend our honor.” 

The entire room roars with approval and Kise can’t help but follow along, caught up in the ridiculous and infectious excitement of chanting _Kaijou, Kaijou, Kaijou_ and Kasamatsu’s eyes are glittering fiercely and for a second Kise is back in the locker room during Winter Cup, harsh ridges of the metal locker doors digging into the tender skin of his back, hungry for blood and his Captain’s approval. 

“Alright you idiots,” Kasamatsu begins, raising a shot glass in the air. “It’s been a year since I last got up here--”

“Just fucking get on with it already,” someone in the back groans, sounding suspiciously like a drunk Takashi. “Or we’ll all sober up by the time you’re done with your speech.”

Kasamatsu gestures at him rudely, to the applause and catcalls of a crowd of sweaty boys.

“As I was saying before I was interrupted by the asshole gallery, it’s been a helluva year for all of us. We’ve won a lot--” This time the entire room bursts out into a frenzy and Nakamura drunkenly slings his arm around Kise’s neck, squeezing him close. Kise doesn’t even mind and only sort of accidentally spills half his beer all over Nakamura’s shirt. 

“And we’ve lost a lot,” Kasamatsu continues, eyes darkening a little. The room quietens and everyone draws even closer together, to Kasamatsu’s pale face. “But we came out of this season like fucking champs and I can’t even begin to tell all of you how proud I was and will always ever be that I was your Captain this year.” The shot glass in his outstretched trembles a little, amber dark liquid trickling down the sides. 

“To Kaijou,” Kasamatsu says, hoarse, and knocks back the drink, muscles in his throat working as he swallows. Kise watches the shadows play over his Captain’s face, the wire crown casting strange shapes over the sharp planes of Kasamatsu’s face. 

“To Kaijou,” the room echoes, but no one else drinks. A few of the younger boys make aborted motions with their cans of beer but the senpais stop them with warning looks. Kise, forewarned by Miyaji and Kobori, instead watches Kasamatsu drink his last as Captain Kasamatsu Yukio of Kaijou High. 

He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and hands the shotglass over to Moriyama, who takes with a respectful bow. 

“And now,” Kasamatsu says, voice rough from more than just the harsh burn of alcohol, “I am proud to present to you the nineteenth Captain of Kaijou High’s basketball team, Nakamura Shinya.”

It’s easy, to pretend that the sharp breath he takes in is nothing more than just a cough from beer going down the wrong tube. It’s easy, to slap Nakamura on the back and congratulate him as the crowd surges forward, bringing Nakamura to the front where Kasamatsu is waiting, face white and eyes burning like coals, crown heavy in his hands. It’s easy to watch Nakamura stumble over a grateful speech, vowing to bring the team to the kind of victory that Kaijou hasn’t seen in years, easy to clap his hands and shout and raise his beer and toast Captain Nakamura, the great glittering four hanging lopsidedly on his head.

The entire crowd starts chanting, “Nakamura, Nakamura” and Kise almost joins in, caught up in the bland ease of reality, when he catches Kasamatsu’s pale face in the corner, so white and shadowed and nothing like the Captain that he knows. 

His heart snaps back into place like a rubber band stretched too far and too fast, and Kise can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t pretend like he doesn’t fucking care anymore.

“Nakamura, Nakamura! Nakamura, Nakamura!”

Kise runs.

\---

It’s a shitty little balcony with a wobbly railing but Kise leans against it anyway, pushing it as far as he can with his weight. The air feels good against his hot skin, cold and sharp and just painful enough.

“You’re gonna fall and break your neck.”

Kise resolutely ignores him in favor of the skyline, clusters of shining lights dripping from the sharp peaks and arches of the city. 

The railing shifts a little as Kasamatsu squeezes into place right next to him, elbows knocking. There’s just enough place for two to stand and a little drying rack that sits folded up behind them, decorated with tiny little clothespins. 

“Me and my old man have been trying to find time to get this thing fixed, but it’s been a rough semester.” There’s a clink as Kasamatsu’s glass bottle knocks against the metal rail. “Now that the season’s over, I can try getting a crack at it. It won’t be too bad of a place to study if I put a coat on.” 

Even if they’re not _quite_ touching, Kise can feel Kasamatsu’s presence. His body heat. The way he takes up space with his knobbly knees and sharp elbows all spread out, hair dark with sweat and smelling like a three day bender. For games out of town, Kasamatsu had always been the one sitting and rooming with Kise, ungraciously taking the aisle seat and hogging all of the pillows. He’d called it babysitting duty, to make sure Kise didn’t wander off, seduced by girls or a glamorous night spent downtown. 

“Look, if you’re pissed about not making Captain.” Kise can feel, more than see Kasamatsu frown, mean and hard like the time he caught a player harassing one of the fans at an away game. “There’s a lot of fuckin’ reasons why I didn’t choose you. Number one, you’re still a fucking kid. You only played, what, three four years of basketball, tops? You haven’t got enough experience and as a second year Captain, you’ll probably get a crapton of shit from the seniors. Number two, you still stink of Teikou.”

Kise doesn’t care enough to hide the way his shoulders tense up. 

“Look me in the eye and tell it to me straight that if Akashi Seijuuro were ever to call you up to meet in the middle of the night, your first thing to say wouldn’t be where.”

Kise stays quiet, just barely.

“Yeah, I fucking thought so.” Kasamatsu takes a contemplative drink, beer sloshing around in the bottle. “You might be Kaijou’s ace, but you’re still Teikou’s Miracle, even if it’s just a little bit.” 

“I would do anything for Kaijou,” Kise hisses, the answer coming out before he even thinks about it. “I bled for this fucking team.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you try to tell me I don’t love this team, don’t tell me I wouldn’t do anything for Kaijou! I’m Kaijou’s ace. Do I look like I wear Teikou’s jersey? Do I look like I give a fuck about what Akashi wants from me?” Kise feels frustrated tears welling up in the corners of his eyes and he wipes them away angrily. “I’m Kaijou’s through and through, until the end.”

Kasamatsu’s silent and the ugly pale cast to his face is back, dark hollows under his eyes and Kise fucking hates himself for making Kasamatsu look like that. 

“That was pretty low of me,” Kasamatsu says quietly, after a long moment.

Kise doesn’t say anything, just drains his beer down to the dregs.

“You’re right, you’re our ace. Our best player.”

Kise tosses the can over the railing and watches it vanish into the darkness. 

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t make you Captain.”

“Bullshit,” Kise snarls. 

“Aces lead us to victory,” Kasamatsu says and he looks bone-tired. “It’s the Captain fault if the team loses, never the ace. If you were to become Captain, you’d have to carry the team through defeat. And it might be damned selfish of me, but I--” Kasamatsu grimaces sharply. “I don’t want you to go through that.” 

“I--” Kise swallows hard. “Captain--”

“I’m not your Captain any longer,” Kasamatsu says and it feels like a knife to the gut, even worse than Aomine’s cold face after the game, even worse than watching Kaijou crumble against Midorima’s ruthless form at the Winter Cup without him, a hot burning sharpness that punches straight through him and cuts his insides up into nothing. 

“Captain,” Kise forces out anyway, because he’s not just Kaijou’s ace, he’s Kasamatsu’s fucking ace and he should have been better, should have lead Kasamatsu to victory and gave him nothing instead. “Captain,” he says again, because Kasamatsu’s standing next to him, so small and tired and Kise can’t fix any of it like he’s supposed to, can’t tell him that he’s angry at himself for letting Kasamatsu down while he had the chance, not angry at him for giving Captiancy to Nakamura instead. 

“Idiot,” Kasamatsu says, voice thick with emotion. “Of all the times you decide to grow up and get respectful.” 

“I’ve been like this all the time, you just haven’t noticed,” Kise laughs raggedly and presses against the hard line of Kasamatsu’s body. “You were always kind of slow with that kind of stuff.”

“See now you’ve gone and ruined it,” Kasamatsu breathes out kind of funny, maybe because of the booze, maybe because the cold and maybe because he gets it, a little. He leans hard to the side and he lets Kise bear his weight for the first time, all bony edges and uncomfortably hard angles.

Kise supports him with an arm around the shoulder and they lean on the wobbly railing as far as it will go, holding on to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> So, a good eighty percent of this was written while I was drunk (I am only vaguely tipsy right now, which explains why I'm posting this in the first place) and much maudlin and mistakes abound. 
> 
> But the feelings for Kasa/Kise are too real.


End file.
